Hermione woke up to a deep, painful throbbing in her lower back. Her limbs ached too and as the events of the Battle rushed back to her, her eyes flew open. There were saucer-wide eyes peering into hers and she lurched to her feet so fast her vision blacked out. That didn't stop her from stumbling into the door with a crack. The brass knob shocked her like a live wire and she gasped, breathing hard as she stared at the door with dismay.
"Master is wanting the Mudblood to stay in her room." a high pitched voice said from somewhere below her. Hermione paused and forced herself to drag in deep breath after deep breath before she panicked. She couldn't think if she was panicking.
Her wand was gone, which she had expected. But most notable was the fact that the magic she could normally feel thrumming through her veins was gone as well. Hermione didn't- couldn't- linger too long on that fact because it caused utter panic to rise like a tidal wave inside her.
She was clothed in an incredibly thin, grey robe, no undergarments. Even the silk stung as it brushed against the brand on her back. The sheets were black, the walls were black, the accents were gold. The canopy over the bed she had woken up in was some sort of enchanted, shimmery, black fabric. There was an empty bookshelf and an attached en suite, and the elf that had spoken moments before was a wiry little female with wide eyes and barely a scrap of clothing hanging off of her.
"Hello," Hermione stuck her hand out, even as she sounded rather breathless. The elf stared at the outstretched palm with confusion, before she slowly extended her own.
"Hello,"
Hermione gave her a tight smile, "And what shall I call you?"
"Pipsey," the elf looked uncertain and a bit nervous.
"Hello, Pipsey. My name is Hermione"
"Master is telling Pipsey that you is to be called Mudblood." Pipsey stated with some conviction.
"That's alright then." Hermione's smile faded and she looked around the room again. "Where am I?"
"Mudblood is in Malfoy Manor." she said solemnly. Then she gasped, "Pipsey must be going now, Master Draco is-" with a quiet pop, the house elf was gone, leaving Hermione alone with the beautiful cage in which she found herself.
The witch flinched when her bedroom door slammed open, revealing Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. He strode into her room without so much as a second of hesitation or any semblance of polite inquiry.
Malfoy looked different. He no longer looked like a pompous, spoiled child. It had been a long time since she had really seen him, or interacted with him in any capacity. Her chin lifted, shoulders squared as she appraised him. Malfoy was thin and grave looking, a little too serious and… like an adult; one who had been through a little too much. He held himself like royalty, like he was above her. With his bright blond hair slicked back and the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled to his elbows. Hermione could see the black Mark plastered on his forearm, so starkly contrasted against the pale white of his skin.
"Mudblood," he greeted. Her nostrils flared in irritation, arms crossed over her chest as she tried to stand as tall as possible: anything to stop him from quite literally looking down on her. Had he always been this tall?
"What am I doing here, Malfoy?" she spat. That predatory grin was back and it made her skin crawl.
"Lazing about, it would appear." he drawled. "I believe you have met your house elf." his hands tucked behind his back.
"My house elf?"
"Yes, Mudblood." he sighed. "You are not permitted to leave this room without an escort. It is conceivable that you may require some things at times during which I am unavailable." he sounded infuriatingly bored, as if it was merely an inconvenience that Hermione's life appeared to be over. She wondered if the reality of her situation would truly hit her at some point. Right now, it felt like some sort of prank or a sick joke. "The blood wards will not allow anyone in or out unless they are accompanied by a Malfoy." he said the name with an odd undertone she couldn't quite place.
"Why am I here?" she asked again, voice louder and more firm.
"The elf will bring you your meals. You are to eat them." his voice grew dark and it was very clearly an order. There was a twinge in her spine at that tone; almost painful, but not quite.
"Malfoy," she snapped.
He paced away to the window then, stroking one finger down the frosted glass, leaving behind a trail that slowly fogged back over. When he turned to face her again, his arms were folded behind his back and he looked like… a soldier. "Your training will begin tomorrow." he eyed her up and down, lip curling in distaste. "The Colosseum opens in one week. This means that we have less than that to turn you into-"
"What does that mean?" she shouted, stalking towards him. Her voice was shrill and piercing and she could have sworn she saw the Death Eater flinch.
"Stand down, Mudblood." he drawled. Again, there was that tone and the twinge at her spine that transitioned into something that was most definitely painful when she made another move towards him. She stopped, breathing hard at the foreign feeling and pinned her old classmate with a look that radiated confusion and fury. Then, determination flooded those brown eyes and -
'I wouldn't'
She flinched, clutching her head between her hands as his voice thundered inside her skull. The condescending and bored look on Draco's face only served to infuriate Hermione further as she forced herself to stay standing and pulled her palms away from her head.
"The brand serves as a sort of bond," he began - the first explanation she had received from him at all, "I am able to communicate directly with you." She hated him and that thought was saturating her very blood with every word that poured from his lips. "Yes, I would imagine you do." he smirked. She bit back the shock, unwilling to give him more satisfaction than he already seemed to be gleaning from their conversation. "And yes, Mudblood, I am privy to your thoughts as well, if I so choose."
"You can read my mind?" her tongue tasted like bile all of the sudden and her vision was going red around the edges. He nodded, not a single blond hair moving from its place as he did so.
She was going to kill him.
"Ah, that." Malfoy took a step towards her, crowding her against the wall. She wouldn't cower. "Kneel," his voice pitched down a handful of octaves. The scoff died on Hermione's lips as a shock of tension ran up her spine. Her lip curled in disgust.
"No," the authority in that one word lost its bite when she cried out as pain lashed across her back like a whip.
"I won't ask again," his eyebrow arched upwards as he waited.
The pain increased incrementally with each moment she disobeyed, until she physically could not remain standing. The golden girl fell to her hands and knees before the Death Eater, panting as she stared at the ground.
Malfoy chuckled as he saw the realization dawn on her, watching as she curled in on herself.
The humiliation deepened, burrowing itself further into her soul as the toe of his boot came to rest underneath her chin and with it, he angled her face upwards.
"Every Gryffindor boy's wet dream; the Gryffindor Princess on her knees before them."
Her robe had come undone when she fell, so there she knelt, on the cold tile beneath the Malfoy Heir's boot, completely bared to him and at his mercy.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." he purred, pushing against her until she was sitting back on her heels.
Hermione forced herself to look him in the eye as he drew nearer, angling his hips forward until she could feel the zipper of his black trousers against her cheek. Her stomach flipped inside out and bile burned her throat; she was entirely powerless against him.
He watched her eyes cloud over as his point was made and a little bit of Gryffindor fight fizzled out inside of her.
"Training will commence tomorrow. I have business to attend to tonight. Pipsey will be available, should you need anything."
Then he was gone and the fight left Hermione entirely. She listed sideways, cold effortlessly penetrating the silk robe. A sob ripped from her chest as she curled up, and she finally allowed herself to cry until she blacked out on the floor of her prison.
"Master says Mudblood is needing to eat."
Hermione's eyes opened at that voice to find Pipsey staring at her again. With a snap of the elf's fingers, a tray of food appeared on the desk by the window. The compulsion echoed up her spine again, memories of Malfoy's orders to eat punctuating the feeling as she rose from the ground to her feet.
"Thank you,"
Pipsey again looked at Hermione like she was some kind of bizarre looking creature.
"For the food." Hermione elaborated. The elf nodded. It wasn't until she sat down at the desk that she noticed the beginnings of dawn creeping up from the gardens and realized that she had slept through the night. That explained the stiffness in her joints.
The food was, to her disdain, some of the best that she had ever had. The self preservative voice in her head was quickly hushed and smothered by the hunger pains in her stomach. The massive plate of food consisted of fried eggs, sausage, baked beans, toast, fried tomatoes and a glass of water. Hermione guzzled the water, not realizing until that moment just how parched she was.
As hungry as she was, she only managed a few bites before her shrunken stomach protested. Pipsey looked on angrily before snapping her fingers again. The food disappeared and months on the run caused her to jolt with unnecessary panic at the waste.
"Mudblood must be getting ready. Master is to start training today."
Hermione nodded and pushed to her feet before making her way to the en suite. The bath water was already running, soap bubbling up in the water. Steam wafted in her direction and her skin nearly sung at the warmth that waited there. Pipsey followed her, watching as she shrugged out of the silk robe before climbing into the tub.
The witch was slowly learning that she would have to learn not to mind the lack of privacy.
She washed herself slowly, procrastinating and drawing it out as long as she could until another snap of Pipsey's fingers drained away the water. With a sigh, she braided her hair and walked back to the bedroom to find undergarments and pants laid out on the bed. The pants were dragonhide and the undergarments were nicer than anything else she had ever owned.
It wasn't until Pipsey alerted her to Malfoy's impending presence that she realized the definite lack of a shirt or blouse of any kind. The leather bralette pushed everything up and she was far more exposed than she was comfortable with.
"Look at that, the Gryffindor Princess has assets." Merlin, his voice made her skin crawl.
She whirled on him angrily and stalked towards him. He still stood on the other side of the threshold however, and Hermione slammed into an invisible barrier before she could reach him.
"I need a shirt, Malfoy."
He just smirked and inclined his head towards the door. Hermione tripped forward as the invisible barrier disappeared. 'Come' his voice in her head was a feeling she would never acclimate to. Never.
But still, she hesitated, holding onto whatever shred of dignity and fight her fingers could grasp until the compulsion traveled up her back and she stepped forward against her will.
She followed him through the halls of the Manor, innumerable halls and turns and twists and stairs until they came to a set of double doors that led out to the courtyard.
"Let's see what we have to work with."
The way he looked her up and down spoke volumes of how little he believed in her abilities.
"Well? Where is my wand?" her hands perched on her hips as she stared reproachfully at the Malfoy Heir.
His bark of nearly evil sounding laughter startled her enough that she jumped and lowered her hands to her sides.
"Oh no, Mudblood. You will not be dueling." his teeth bared to her as he grinned. "This is hand-to-hand combat; a fight to the death."
Hermione's blood ran cold as Malfoy settled into some sort of fighting position, fists raised in her direction.
"So I'll say again: let's see what we're working with, shall we?"